Tribute
by Estel POI
Summary: The Machine gives Finch the titles of books that have no Dewey Decimal numbers, because the books don't exist. Only Elias can help them find out who is in danger, but Reese and Finch do not know that Carter freed Elias from prison before she died. This is a sequel to The Last Witness, and it contains characters introduced in that story, so please read it first.


"We have a unique situation this morning, Mr. Reese."

"How so, Finch?"

Reese ambled across the library toward his boss. Shaw was already gone. She had arrived at work early, so Finch had sent her off to take care of the first number of the day.

"I got a call from a pay-phone, just like I usually do, but when I came here to find the Dewey Decimal numbers associated with the titles The Machine had given me, I found that they… didn't exist. The Machine gave me the titles of books that have never been written."

Reese's brow furrowed.

"That's odd. Has The Machine ever given you anything other than an ID number before?

"No, Mr. Reese. It's not supposed to. I programmed it to only give the minimum amount of information necessary for identification, to protect the privacy of the people involved. The Machine can't do anything it wasn't programmed to do."

"So you say, Finch, but how do you explain this?"

"I don't know…."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Reese said,

"What are the titles it gave you? Maybe we can find out what it's up to. Are you sure they aren't real books?"

"Quite sure. The books are, _A Pauper's Birth, Newborn of Nowhere, _and _Exiles from the Land of the Shaking Earth_."

"'The land of the shaking earth'. That's a nickname for Mexico. Maybe our number is an immigrant, Finch."

"Even if that were the case, he would still have some sort of an identification number…. Unless he were a "Newborn of Nowhere", in which case—"

"He could have been born recently, soon after his mother came to the States, born in private, "a pauper's birth," because his mother couldn't afford to pay the hospital. Might not even have been able to find the hospital in time, if she just got here and doesn't speak English."

"That fits with the last title_. _But it still leaves us with a problem: which immigrant baby in all of New York City could be in danger?"

"Well…. I suppose we have to look for motive. Do you know of anyone who might have a reason to commit infanticide?"

"No; of course not. I don't spend my spare time having drinks with murderers. All of the criminals I've met in our line of work, I keep at arms length, so if any of them wants to kill a baby, I have no idea."

"Then I guess that leaves us with one option, Finch. Remember what we did last time a baby was in danger?"

"Oh no…. We can't go to Elias again. If you'll remember, Detective Szymanski was almost killed and Detective Carter, I mean, oh poor Carter…."

Reese sighed and sat down on the floor, his back to a bookcase.

"I know. But Finch, this is different. Elias is in prison now, so he can't use me like he did with baby Layla. Anyway, we didn't have a choice, and Joss did come to see that eventually, didn't she?"

"I suppose she did. Of course she did; she admired you and your work, John, when all was said and done. And you're right. Elias is our only choice, now. With him in prison and no other way to find the child, even Joss would agree this is the only way. So I'll let me find my coat, and I'll be on my way to Rikers."

Reese stood up.

"No, Harold. I'll go."

Finch stared at Reese like he thought Reese had lost his mind. In answer to the unspoken objection, Reese said, "I got word that Elias was moved to another prison, so there's no danger I'll be recognized. It's been too long time since I had a talk with that man. I'll go as Marshall Jennings, of course."

* * *

"There is no Carl Elias at this prison, Marshall."

"That's impossible! He was moved here just a few months ago, and he isn't up for parole for decades."

"It looks like he was moved from Rikers by Detective Terney, but here it says his arrival was canceled. He was logged out of our system by one Detective Carter,"—Reese jumped—"But if his sentence wasn't up, there must have been some error in the system. She typed in the wrong prisoner identification number, I suppose. That does happen, every now and then. We'll get things straightened out. Would you like to come back tomorrow? I'm sure we can find out where this Elias is, by then."

Reese stared at the wall.

"Sir?"

"No. Thanks for your help."

Reese walked back to his motorcycle and started toward his new destination.

* * *

At Corijo's Bar, half a dozen men slouched against the counter, casting wary glances at one another, their hands never straying far from their switchblades. The door swung opened and banged against the wall. Reese strode across the room and seized Scarface by the shoulder. "Where's your boss? Tell me before it hurts."

Scarface smiled. "3358, Wellington Street. He said you'd be looking for him."

* * *

"Well, look who's here! I thought the Man in the Undertaker's Clothes, or whatever those fools are calling you, would show up as soon as Simmons was found garroted. But better late than never!"

Reese glared at him.

"What?" Said Elias cheerfully, as he filled a glass of wine. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Why did she let you go?"

Elias leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You know, John, our dearly departed detective wasn't like you and me. She knew that justice required that I be killed—eye for an eye and all that—but she didn't like the idea of someone killing me without proper authority. It's interesting, see? If I had been convicted of murder and sent to the chair, she would have read about it in the newspaper, then gone to bed that night and slept like a child. But just let some thug try to kill me, and she risked her life, her career, her son's happiness, all for an old mob boss, and in a completely illegal fashion. What do you think? Does that fit with whatever complex system of morality she adhered to, or do you think she just did it to spite the men who wanted me dead? Probably the former. Obviously, I never cared much for ethics in my personal life, but it's an interesting subject to think about, don't you agree?"

Reese stared.

"You really aren't going to talk, are you? Just came here to see my beautiful face?" He grinned.

Reese shook his head, clearing it. "I came here… I came here to find out about a baby."

Reese described the situation, and Elias straightened in his chair.

"I can't identify your baby off the top of my head, but I'll contact my men. See if we can't find a needle in a haystack."

Reese turned to leave, but Elias' voice stopped him.

"She could have died saving my life, but she didn't. Your problems are the ones that got her killed."

Reese spun around, his face contorted with fury. "_What did you say?"_

"Oh nothing. Nothing at all. I'm helping you with this one because, you know, tribute to the dead and all that. Don't expect me to do these things for you all the time. Watch it now! You won't hurt me, not after she risked her life to save mine. Tributes to the dead, right?"

Reese slowly turned and left.

* * *

Three hours later, Reese stalked back and forth across the library, his knuckles smeared with his own blood.

"D-don't you think you've done enough boxing with the wall, Mr. Reese? It won't surrender, you know."

"Shut up, Harold."

The phone rang. They both lunged for it, but Finch was closer.

"Hello?"

There was a long pause, then Finch hung up the phone.

"That was Carl Elias. He's located the child. Isaac Rodriguez, son of Maria and Hector Rodriguez. Hector is the ringleader of one of the biggest drug cartels in North America. Maria fled to the United States after her husband turned violent. It wasn't the first time he did; Hector killed his first wife in a drunken rage. He has an older son, Atilio, from his first marriage, and according to Elias, that is probably where the danger lies. Atilio always assumed that he would be his father's sole heir, but word got out that Maria was pregnant when she fled, so now everyone is wondering where Maria is hiding with her very wealthy baby. Of course, Atilio must be wondering, too."

"So where's the baby? And where's this Atilio?"

"Elias has located the baby, and is very proud of himself for that. At first I thought he was going to ask me for payment, to keep him from turning the baby over to Atilio, but for some reason he didn't. He said you would understand why."

Reese snarled, and Finch hurried to change the subject.

"The baby is with his mother at 9746 Webber Avenue. That's an office building that was recently abandoned due to black mold. Maria and a few other homeless people have been sleeping there. Elias doesn't know precisely where Atilio is at the moment, but he's somewhere in New York. That means he must have caught wind of baby Isaac's whereabouts—he didn't come all the way from Mexico by accident."

"All right. Why don't you send Shaw to guard the mother and child, and I'll go see if I can track down this Atilio Rodriguez and teach him not to play Cain and Abel."

"I'm afraid Miss Shaw is currently protecting a bongo builder from Burundi who accidentally built a drum out of a treasure map from the Somali gangsters who wish the location of the treasure to remain a secret. You go find Atilio. I will watch Maria and baby Isaac through the building's surveillance, and if anything goes wrong, between you and Fusco and Shaw, one of you should be able to reach them in time."

* * *

After beating senseless the occupants of three bars, Reese found a frightened little man who told him where he could find his prey.

When he arrived at the plaza, he saw a group of eight Mexican men standing by a streetlight. The tallest of these fit Elias' description of Atilio: snake tattoos curled up both his arms, a gold hoop hung from his left ear, and his braid hung below his belt. No one dares criticize the fashion choices of a cartel chief's son.

"Hey, Rodriguez Junior!" Atilio turned and saw Reese, and his eyes narrowed. Reese grabbed his arm, but Atilio's knife came out and Reese was forced to step back. One of Atilio's friends grabbed Reese from behind. Reese twisted around to free himself and face his attacker. By the time he got loose, he was surrounded.

It only took Reese three minutes to incapacitate the seven men, but it was enough time for Atilio Rodriguez to escape. Reese reached for his phone.

"I've got a job for you, Lionel. I need you to track down Atilio Rodriguez. He's the son of a rich cartel leader, and he's trying to murder his baby half-brother before his dad dies so he can inherit all the drug money. If I have my way, baby Isaac will outlive Atilio."

"Hey, hey, hey, Mr. Sunshine. Did you say "_outlive _Atilio"? Don't you usually just gift wrap these guys and leave 'em for the cops? I ain't gonna help you assassinate this thug, even if he deserves it."

"Since when are you the voice of moral reason, Lionel?"

"Dunno. Maybe since the last holder of that title took a bullet for you, I just figured somebody's gotta think that way."

Reese squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath through his nose.

"Hey, you still there, Wonderboy?"

"Yeah. What do you want me to do, Lionel? Let the boy die? By the time I find proof that Atilio's a killer, it'll be too late, unless you know some way to prove his guilt."

"Afraid not. I'd be happy to arrest the guy, but until you can prove he's dirty, I'll just have to catch and release. I'll look into him, but I if I find him, I'm not going to tell you where he is, not when you're in such a sweet mood."

Reese hung up on Fusco and called Finch. "I lost Atilio and Lionel wouldn't help; he's grown an overactive conscience."

"Detective Fusco has a point, you know. We could give the police proof that Atilio is planning to commit murder, and let them do the rest. We can do that, now, since HR isn't around to set murderers free, thanks to Detective Carter."

"Great. Now all we have to do is tell the police that a giant machine gave us titles for three non-existent books, and a mob boss told us Atilio is a killer."

"Well….that wouldn't work, of course, but if we could find some other way to prove it—Wait! We know some people who have proven their aptitude at solving just this kind of problem."

* * *

"Oh, this is wonderful, Mr. Wren!" Ruth Silverstein handed Oren the pea-sized recording device Finch had just given her.

"It looks like you customized the battery with a—never mind. Lets get to work."

After Finch had suggested they enlist the help of the Silversteins, Reese had calmed down enough to remember to ask Atilio's friends where the would-be murderer liked to spend his time. He was now stalking Atilio, giving Finch and the Silversteins regular updates on the location of their prey.

"I believe I understand how to use the tools you loaned us." Said Oren. "I think we can get to Mr. Rodriguez in about twenty minutes."

"Do be careful, Mr. Silverstein. We're trying to save one innocent life. It wouldn't make any sense to lose two, in the attempt."

"Didn't survive the Holocaust by sticking our necks out, Wren." Said Ruth. "But if anyone is getting killed, it should be us. Old age will kill us soon, anyway. I've always wondered why the military doesn't hire old folks for bomb defusing and stuff."

Finch raised his eyebrows. "I suppose that's a question for Mr. Reese."

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Silverstein walked very slowly down the sidewalk in front of Atilio.

"Oh dear." Said Ruth. "Did I drop my glasses?"

She bent fumbled around on the ground.

"They're on your head, Ruth."

"My head? But why would my glasses be—Oh. There they are. I'm getting so terribly s-senile, Dear. I don't know what I'm going to do."

Oren took his wife by the arm and led her away. Atilio shifted his feet and stepped on a bit of goo. He didn't notice the goo, nor did he notice that it contained Finch's recording device.

* * *

Back at the library, Finch and the Silversteins listened to Reese as he interpreted Atilio's Spanish coming out of Finch's laptop from the tiny device on Atilio's shoe.

"_Shouldn't we wait until you've found something to do with the bodies?"_

"_I'm sick of waiting, Marcos. We'll wear gloves. They're homeless illegals. The police won't look very hard, and even if they do, I'll be in Mexico by the time they find out who did it."_

"_Okay, boss. But we'll only come with you if you'll never tell your father. He would kill us all."_

"_Of course not. Put on your shoes."_

Reese stopped interpreting. "I need to go to Maria and Isaac." He moved toward the door, and so did the Silversteins.

"Where do you think you're going?" Said Reese.

"Same place you are."

Reese stepped sideways, blocking the door. "No, you're not."

"Yes," said Ruth. "We are. There's no reason we shouldn't. We might be able to help, we won't get in the way, and anyway, you can't stop us; not unless you're going to knock us out and possibly break our old noggins in the process, or waste time tying us up."

Reese blinked at them for a moment, then shrugged and hurried out the door, the Silversteins close behind him.

* * *

"Mr. Rodriguez is coming from the North, Mr. Reese. If you go straight in the nearest entrance, you'll meet him in the middle of the building."

"Is that Wren giving you directions through an earpiece? I've heard they were trying to make those things small enough to—"

Reese silenced Oren with a gesture and ran up the steps into the abandoned office building where Maria and Isaac lived. Oren unzipped his duffel bag, pulled out a length of wire, a small tube, and a pouch, then handed the bag to Ruth. "Take it and circle around behind Atilio. Don't let him see you. I'll go for high ground and try to spot you. I have the wire. You know what to do."

As the couple parted ways, two cars pulled up to the curb and Atilio and his men got out.

Reese ran through a pair of double doors into a large atrium. The room was two stories high, and was overlooked by a second story indoor balcony. In an old chair behind a desk that had probably belonged to a receptionist before the building was abandoned sat a young woman nursing her child. When she saw Reese, gun in hand, she leapt out of her chair with a scream and ducked behind the desk.

"Don't be afraid, Miss Rodriguez. I'm not here to hurt you or your son. I'm here to—"

Before he could finish, the opposite door opened and Atilio's men entered. Reese vaulted over the desk and stood between the men and their prey. The first thug foolishly pointed his gun at Reese. He fell to the ground, clutching his knee, as Reese turned to his next enemy. This man was wiser than the first, and flung himself out of the way as Reese fired. A man built like a bull shouted at the top of his lungs and charged. Reese's first bullet hit him in the knee, but he didn't stop, so Reese shot his other knee. Reese turned and kneecapped two more attackers. Atilio was hanging back, letting his henchmen do his fighting for him, but there were only two of them left. Reese pointed his gun at another knee and pulled the trigger. Click, click. The gun was empty. The thug grinned and raised his knife, then his grin froze, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed. A dart protruded from his neck. Reese glanced up and saw Oren on the balcony, blowgun in hand. While Reese was distracted, Atilio's last man lunged for him. But before he could touch Reese, he convulsed and fell to the ground, electrocuted by a wire Oren had flung across the room for Ruth to plug into a socket.

Atilio ducked under the wire and stood toe-to-toe with Reese, a long knife in his hand. Reese made a grab for Atilio's wrist, but Atilio flicked his hand, and Reese, in his exhaustion, did not react quickly enough. Instead of taking hold of Atilio's wrist, his hand closed on the blade of the knife. Atilio smiled as he felt Reese's blood run down onto his hand, and he jerked the knife, cutting deeper.

Reese stepped forward, and the smile faded from Atilio's face. Although Reese's hand was cut to the bone, he had not let go of the knife. Reese pinned Atilio against the wall and twisted the knife slowly until the tip, which protruded above his hand, drove into Atilio's chest.

As Atilio fell, Reese turned and surveyed the room. Maria and Isaac were still huddled beneath the desk, frightened but unharmed. Oren was coming down the stairs from the balcony. Ruth tapped Reese on the shoulder. "There's a man here who wants to speak with you."

Elias stepped into the room. "We've made quite a mess here, haven't we, John? Oh well. Let the police clean up the blood; they're good at that. I see the baby is safe. Good. You know what that means, don't you?"

Reese looked at him, but did not reply.

"It means my tribute is complete. Carter would be pleased. Of course, she isn't pleased, because she isn't here, but that means that what comes next won't bother her."

Reese spoke through gritted teeth. "What comes next, Elias?"

"What comes next? It's your turn to pay tribute to Carter, John. She spared my life, regardless of how I chose to live it. You wouldn't kill me outright, of course, and you can't send me back to prison. Even with HR gone, the Russians would kill me if they had me in a cage. What comes next is me doing whatever I choose, and you can look on, or you can look away."


End file.
